Now it was a test of Jimmy's observational skills. Even though the streets weren't as crowded as they were during the day, there were still quite a few people around, as well as homeless people settling down for rest. Jimmy had already spotted several lying down.

Something was off. Jimmy noticed a man up ahead who didn't seem like an ordinary pedestrian. His walking pace wasn't fast and didn't appear to have any particular movements, but his walking posture was awkward.

For most people, walking is a natural behavior dominated by long-standing habits. The body is relatively relaxed, swaying from top to bottom, arms swing habitually—even if hands are in pockets, the shoulders still tend to move.

The man Jimmy had his eye on seemed normal, but his upper body barely swayed, appearing controlled rather than natural. If you didn't pay close attention, you would just overlook him. He was just a few dozen meters in front of Jimmy, walking towards him.

This wasn't right. Jimmy unbuckled his seat belt, opened the car door, and got out, walking to the front of the car. He took out a cigarette case and a lighter from his pocket, making it look like he just needed a smoke after sitting in the car for too long.

Jimmy lit his cigarette, holding it in his left hand, with his right hand resting on his waist—the quickest angle to draw a gun with little motion.

Jimmy's actions seemed to alarm the approaching man. Although he didn't stop, the distance was now within ten meters, and it was evident that he was somewhat nervous, his awkwardness becoming more pronounced.

The distance of ten meters was quickly closed. When the man reached Jimmy's side, Jimmy shifted his weight back and took a step back with his right leg, moving his entire body back slightly. At that little distance, the man's left hand had already risen, swinging past Jimmy.

It was bad. He was indeed targeting Jimmy.

Jimmy released the cigarette from his left hand while stretching his right hand towards the man. Relying on reaction speeds that surpassed normal human capacity, "spiritual power," Jimmy had already seen all of the man's movements, but his hands couldn't keep up with such speeds. Even though he was mentally prepared, the action of discarding the cigarette with his left hand and reaching with his right was still a beat too slow to successfully grab the man.

The man's left hand swung past Jimmy and with momentum turned his body, punching backward with his right fist. Given the rotation of his body, he would have surely landed a forceful punch on Jimmy.

Jimm's right hand had been extended to grab him, and quick reflexes paid off. The hand that was originally reaching for the man's neck blocked the oncoming punch, and Jimmy's left hand, having dropped the cigarette, grabbed the man's clothing.

With his right leg initially behind and his left leg in front for the dodge, Jimmy propelled forward off his right leg, leaning into it after switching stances. His bent right knee struck the man's thigh from behind, and in concert with the pulling action of his left hand, he pulled the man's upper body towards the ground. Due to the man's ongoing movements, his legs were significantly off-balance, his back falling towards the ground.

Jimmy didn't continue to fight. Instead, he rapidly backed away from the man now on the ground, taking aim with his Glock as he retreated, "FBI, don't move or I'll shoot."

The man on the ground rolled once, attempting to rise. Having heard Jimmy, he looked up to see him aiming the gun and immediately ceased all his actions, now in an awkward kneeling position.

"Spread your hands and lie down on the ground. Now, immediately!"

Jimmy yelled, continually aiming at him. One man with a gun, another kneeling, the scene suddenly went quiet, and the surrounding pedestrians, as though just realizing the situation, began to scatter.

"FBI, raise your hands, lie down on the ground! Quick!" Jimmy shouted. This was no time for soft-spoken words—his voice was as loud as it could be, both to exert psychological pressure on the suspect and to warn bystanders not to interfere with an FBI operation, which could complicate things.

The opponent gave in, relaxing his body, and lay flat on the ground with his hands spread out.

Jimmy glanced left and right to ensure there was no interference before slowly moving toward the man, reaching his side. He grabbed the man's left hand, twisting it behind his back, and knelt on the man's waist with his bent knee while he placed his Glock back in its holster. He then pulled out handcuffs from behind his back, clasped the left hand first, then the right.

After cuffing him, Jimmy let out a sigh of relief, stood up, looked around again, then leaned down to pull him up, leaning him against the car to search him. Apart from a mobile phone and a wallet, the man had nothing else on him, not even keys, which was strange. Jimmy opened the wallet to find it empty, no cash, just a few coupons and vouchers, not even a driver's license.

Jimm pulled him upright to face him, "Who are you? Why did you attack me?"

He was a white man, apparently under 30 years of age, with not-too-long unkempt hair that seemed to have grown out of its original bowl cut.

Given the man's attack on Jimmy, he was certainly no ordinary person. Moreover, he did not fit the profile of Boxer, the suspect Jimmy was seeking, as he was far too different from the surveillance footage and photo identification.

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